


my fingertips, and my lips, they burn from the cigarettes

by sugarflower



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-30 22:17:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10886028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarflower/pseuds/sugarflower
Summary: Moritz’s favorite part of summer was at night, when the two of them would sit on Melchi’s back porch and roll their own cigarettes. Melchior always rolled his for him, not because Moritz wasn’t capable but because that’s just how it’d always been.





	1. part one

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo this is my first SA fic, mainly because i just watched the OBC like two nights ago and fell in love. i hope you like my characterization of both melchi and moritz! comments appreciated.

Summer was hot and thick around them.

Melchior loved it, walking around with his shirt off and the latest book to pique his interest, sitting in the tops of trees and looking down on the world below. 

Moritz hated it. The heat covered his skin in sweat and left him feeling like he was suffocating. He was far less confident than Melchior, too insecure to take his shirt off. So instead, he just suffered. He would sit at the bottom of the trees, staring up at Melchi who was so smug in the sky. They would yell to each other back and forth, Melchior talking about something Moritz wouldn’t even begin to want to understand, and Moritz begging Melchi to come down so they can go inside with air conditioning. 

It’s been like this since they were kids, growing up in the same cul de sac, spending every summer running around their neighborhood. The older they got the more disdain Moritz had for their small corner of suburbia. Melchi looked at it like it was some experiment, commenting on how these poor people lived their life. Going on for hours about how they were just a product of the system, doing what they were told. 

Moritz agreed to an extent, but mostly he just nodded along and let Melchior talk. He liked watching him get all animated. It was like a slow build, gradually getting more and more into his own speech as he went. Moritz always watched with the hint of a smile. 

Although by far, Moritz’s favorite part of summer was at night, when the two of them would sit on Melchi’s back porch and roll their own cigarettes. Melchior always rolled his for him, not because Moritz wasn’t capable but because that’s just how it’d always been. And Moritz rather liked it, the way Melchiors fingers worked so delicately, how his tongue swiped out to gently wet the paper. He liked the small look of satisfaction that usually adorned Melchi’s face - there was a brief moment where he always admired his work. Moritz noticed it all. 

That’s the thing about having so much anxiety you can’t sleep at night. You notice things. Everything, really. You watch and listen and observe. And Melchi was his favorite subject. 

Moritz could tell you - in great detail - how Melchior enjoyed his coffee. He could tell you the range of facial expressions he made when conjugating Latin ( a language in which Moritz would never understand actually desiring to study ). For the most part he knew almost everything about Melchi. 

He liked their nights spent on Melchior’s back porch for other reasons, too. It was quiet, but not an awkward quiet. It was like blissful silence. It was one of the only brief moments where Melchior had nothing to say. They just sat there, close together, cigarettes between their lips and staring up at the night sky. 

Tonight there are more stars than usual, and both of them let out the smallest of sighs. There was something to be said for sharing this moment of pure beauty.  
Even though he feels like he’s not supposed to, like it’s against the rules, Moritz steals a glance at Melchi. The look on his face is one of bliss. There’s a faint smile on his lips, eyes wide with awe. 

For Moritz, this is more beautiful than the stars ever could be. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but promptly closes it again. After another moment of deliberation he tries again, “I-” A pause. Melchi looks over, eyebrow raised, and Moritz’s gaze snaps up to the sky. “It’s- It’s so beautiful, it looks so beautiful.” You. You’re so beautiful. “I feel like if I could only get close enough, I’d fall in.” 

Now Melchior is looking at him, really looking at him. His attention no longer divided between his face and the sky. Moritz can feel his gaze on him as well, it makes his skin hot and his throat dry. 

“Moritz Stiefel, I think there’s a poet inside you yet.” 

He can feel himself blush, the blood rushing to his cheeks and giving them a nice red tone. In lieu of reply he ashes his cigarette and takes another drag, trying to look anywhere else but at Melchi’s face. He knows if he looks at him he’ll give it away, his feelings, buried deep in his chest. 

When did it begin? Moritz himself didn’t really know the answer. Maybe when they were younger than they are now, when Melchior used to stick up for him in the schoolyard. Moritz was never really popular, in fact, until Melchi came along no one really spoke to him at all. He was quiet and when he did talk it was almost spastic, speaking in nervous staccato bursts. The other boys made fun of him, but one day Melchior stepped in - putting himself in the way of harm instead. 

Maybe it was then that he really fell in love. Or maybe it was later, when Melchior started to actually talk to him. Even though Moritz didn’t really talk back, he just listened. And Melchi didn’t treat him like he was anything but an equal. 

If he really thought about it, that was the first time in his life Moritz ever experienced true kindness. Or maybe it was just basic human decency? 

Whatever the case, when he looked at Melchior he saw the stars in his eyes. When he looked at Melchior he saw his beginning, middle, and end. When he looked at Melchior he felt like - like time could stop and he wouldn’t even notice.


	2. part two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t you ever want someone to just touch you?”

The next night Melchior is in an obvious hurry, halfway through rolling their cigarettes by the time Moritz sits down. He’s only slightly disappointed.

“What’s got you in such a rush?” He has to work to keep his tone even, voice crackling towards the end. Melchior looks up at him, a small, excited smile on his face. Like he has this great secret he can’t wait to tell. Melchior has already rolled his cigarette, holding it in place between his lips while he grabs a lighter. Moritz savors the sight, enjoying just being able to look at him.

“I’m supposed to meet Wendla tonight, in the pasture over by her house.” He takes a drag, blowing smoke towards the sky before handing Moritz his own neatly rolled cigarette. “She said she wants me to help her with _summer reading_.”

Moritz looks almost incredulous, hands nearly trembling as he reaches for the lighter himself. “At _night_ ?” Melchi nods. “In a _pasture_?” He nods again, nearly laughing this time as he exhales.

“Exactly.”

It takes Moritz awhile to absorb the words, and the meaning behind them. He’s aware of the crushes girls have on Melchi, it’s been happening ever since they were young. In 5th grade every single girl in the class gave him a valentine. At first Moritz assumed that the uncomfortable feeling in his chest was because of envy. He assumed that he wanted that attention from those girls, that he was seeking out the same validation. But really, over the past few years he’s realized it’s jealousy. Jealous that someone else could want and pine for Melchi’s affection, and so out in the open.

Now, that same feeling was in his chest. Like an unsettling weight had found it’s home there.

“I-Isn’t it dangerous, though? To be a-alone out there?” He knows he sounds naive, and he is. Everyone else was talking to their parents about it, asking them to explain, and then there were sex-ed classes. But for Moritz it was different. How could he admit that he wasn’t curious about women? How could he admit that the only thoughts he had were about his best friend?

He knew how sex worked, between a man and a woman, anyway. But there was still so much he didn’t understand. Like how you could even, admit to wanting those things? Weren’t wants such a dangerous thing to have?

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry Moritz.” He ashes his cigarette, putting it out and standing slowly. “I don’t think anything dangerous will happen tonight.”

Moritz watches as he leaves, still wondering how exactly he should feel right now. His best friend was going off to do god knows what with Wendla. Who really, Moritz didn’t even dislike. She was nice and kind, always doing things for others. But jealousy was a nasty thing.

* * *

 

When Melchior finally returns, almost two hours later, Moritz is still there. He didn’t intentionally wait for him, there were just so many things to think about - to worry about. Like what Melchi and Wendla were doing alone together, or why he was scared because of it.

When Melchior finally returns, Moritz is relieved. And then immediately embarrassed that he’d managed to sit there for so long. He’d even taken to rolling his own cigarettes, chain smoking just so his hands had something to do. He tries to very slyly look Melchi over, as if to make sure everything is in the right place. His clothes don’t look too misplaced, there’s not a huge sign on his forehead that says “I JUST HAD SEX WITH WENDLA”.

“Moritz, you’re still here?” Melchi squints, eyes straining in the dark, like he’s trying to confirm that it is in fact Moritz. After he does, he takes his usual place next to him. “You didn’t have to wait up, you know.” There’s a hint of something in his voice, an emotion that Moritz can’t quite catch.

“It’s not like I had anything better to do.” He realizes how pathetic it sounds after the fact and adds, “Besides I- I couldn’t stop thinking, about what you and Wendla… the possibility that you two…” Moritz can feel his cheeks on fire, and he’s sure they’re bright red by now. His only saving grace is that it’s most likely too dark to be able to tell.

Melchior laughs. And Moritz can hear the smirk in his voice before he even begins to speak, “The possibility that we what? You shouldn’t have worried, nothing happened.” He reaches over to grab the cigarette that had been hanging from Moritz lips, placing it to his own. “She actually _did_ just want to study.”

“Well - Well, what did you t-think was going to happen?” The question leaves his lips before he can really think about the words he’s saying. It was more out of jealousy, than anything. Why did Melchi sound so disappointed? Did he really want to be with Wendla?

Despite the darkness Moritz can see (and feel) Melchiors gaze on him. It’s like time is still for a moment, and then Melchi is moving.

Moritz watches with wide eyes as he gets up from his chair, flicking the cigarette off the porch and kneeling in front of him. “I wanted her to touch me.” As he says it his hand snakes its way up Moritz’s leg, resting on his thigh. “Don’t you ever want someone to just touch you?”

At this point Moritz has stopped being able to breathe, wondering if this is some cruel trick from the gods. Melchior Gabor, his best friend, is in front of him and on his knees with his hand on his thigh. And that hand - it feels like a weight on his leg. The only thing reminding Moritz that this is real, and happening.

“M-Melchi what- what are you.. I don’t-” He wants to say ‘god, yes’ but instead a nervous sputter comes out. He’s wanted this, at least some version of it, for so long and yet right now he’s terrified. What if he makes a move and Melchior rejects him? It’s too much risk.

Melchior lets out a sort-of laugh. It’s more just like an exhale accompanied by a kind smile. “It’s okay to want things, Moritz.” He moves his hand an inch further up Moritz’s thigh, “It’s okay to want to be touched.”

There’s another pause between them, in time. This one seems much more significant, and Moritz feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He wants this. He wants it so badly. His skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s got to say something, right? He has to say… something. Anything.

Anything would be better than this silence.

“I love you.” Well, fuck. The words just sort of come up, bubbling out of his throat before he gets a chance to stop them. Before he can even really register what he’s saying. He wanted to go for something better than that, something more along the lines of ‘touch me’ but it didn’t quite happen. At all.

Immediately, Moritz is filled with regret. If he felt like his throat was closing up before, he definitely feels it now. And Melchior pulls his hand away, moving back.

Moritz stands up so quickly it knocks Melchi flat on his ass, but he doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy trying to get as far away as possible, sprinting off the porch and in the direction of his own house.

  
“Moritz! Stop-” Melchior tries to yell after him, but he’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M NOT?? Super happy with this.. i had a lot of ideas, but had trouble putting them on paper. i might take it down/rewrite, but for now !! enjoy


End file.
